Houston craft distillery waits to come of age

1of6Brothers Travis, left, and Chris Whitmeyer had a dream to craft their own spirits. Now they own and operate Whitmeyer's Distillery in northwest Houston, where they make whiskey and vodka.Photo: Billy Smith II, Staff

2of6(l-r) Travis and Chris Whitmeyer the two brothers that own and operate Whitmeyer's Distillery, in Houston Texas, where they make whiskey and vodka. (Billy Smith II / Houston Chronicle)Photo: Billy Smith II, Staff

3of6Chris Whitmeyer holds up bottle of his Space City Vodka at Whitmeyer's Distillery, in Houston Texas, where Chris and his brother Travis make whiskey and vodka. (Billy Smith II / Houston Chronicle)Photo: Billy Smith II, Staff

4of6Chris Whitmeyer holds up bottle of his Space City Vodka at Whitmeyer's Distillery, in Houston Texas, where Chris and his brother Travis make whiskey and vodka. (Billy Smith II / Houston Chronicle)Photo: Billy Smith II, Staff

Tucked in the back of an unremarkable business park in northwest Houston, the Whitmeyer brothers are cooking whiskey.

A 55-gallon still is bubbling and a clear alcohol condenses through copper tubing and streams into a pitcher. After it cools, the brothers will pour it into charred oak barrels and stack them against the wall for years to come, letting the wood mellow the alcohol and turn it amber.

The Whitmeyer family operates the first legal distillery in Harris County since Prohibition, creating another product that Houstonians can "buy local." They are also part of a burgeoning national movement to bring back the local distillery.

The success of craft spirits, though, has brought competition from faux-craft businesses: big distillers pretending to be small distillers, marketing professionals selling mass-produced liquor in fancy bottles and aficionados who purchase the best barrels from large distillers and then bottle them with clever names.

How much you care where your liquor is made has a lot do with why you drink. If you're looking for the cheapest spirit for your fruit punch, then the price tag is all you need to read. But if you want to support a local business trying to make a unique product, then the fine print on the back of the bottle matters.

Brothers Travis and Chris Whitmeyer got interested in distilling spirits while posted in Germany with the U.S. Army. Travis had a German girlfriend whose family owned a farm and as a hobby made fruit schnapps.

During a tour in Iraq, Travis and Chris talked about life after the war and settled on making liquor.

They raised money from family and friends and started Whitmeyer's Distilling Co. in 2012. Their dream was to handcraft straight bourbon whiskey, but to earn that name, the whiskey must spend two years aging in new, charred American oak barrels.

While they waited for their bourbon to mature, Travis Whitmeyer said his company made vodka and moonshine, which does not require aging, and bought whiskey from other distilleries and created blends to generate cash flow, a business plan typical of startup distilleries.

"The craft side of it? There is a growing culture that is exciting to see, but it's almost impossible to do just by itself," Travis Whitmeyer told me. "You have to bring in other products, you have to do blends, and you have to add value to the shelves so you can compete."

Tito's Vodka, made in Austin, was the first new distillery to open in Texas since Prohibition. Since 1997, the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission has issued distiller permits to 61 companies. In the Houston area, the Railean Distillery in San Leon, Dash Vodka in Brookshire and Houston's Yellow Rose and BJ Hooker's are also distilling.

These companies, though, face the same headwinds as any innovative entrepreneur who breaks into the mainstream, whether it's in fashion, food or technology. The industry's dominant corporations, jealous of losing even the tiniest slice of market share, use their scale to undercut the upstarts.

In the case of spirits, big distillers have created niche brands and new companies with Texas addresses advertise they are from Texas on the front of the label, but the back reveals the contents were distilled by a bulk-producer outside the state.

Retailers want to sell more of the products that give them the most profit, which is why it's rare to find a craft liquor at the front of the store. Some large retailers have taken the extra step of paying bulk producers to create store brands that can be marketed as craft spirits.

These brands offer good quality, they just aren't made by Iraq war vets living up the freeway who are putting their blood, sweat and tears into creating something special.

Federal labelling requirements only confuse the issue. There is no definition of "craft spirit" or "small-batch" and when it comes to the liquor's origin, the regulation says a spirit should name the state where it was distilled, unless the inspecting agent from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms waives the requirement, which happens frequently.

Better labeling would help craft distillers, but would hurt large producers, so changes to the law are unlikely. With a tiny marketing budget, Whitmeyer's and other craft producers struggle to get noticed.

Local distillers, though, received some relief in 2013 when state lawmakers allowed distillers to sell from the distillery, buy in bulk from Texas wineries and breweries and sell in bulk to food processors.

"Our local craft distilleries have received new opportunities to flourish and grow as small business owners," said Scott Stewart, executive director of the Texas Distilled Spirits Association.

For anyone trying to determine if a whiskey-dealer is cooking his own juice, Travis Whitmeyer offered this test: Ask for a tour of the distillery.

Chris Tomlinson has written commentary on business, energy and economics for the Houston Chronicle since 2014. Before joining the Chronicle, he spent 20 years with The Associated Press reporting on politics, conflicts and economics from more than 30 countries in Africa, the Middle East and Europe. He’s also the author of the New York Times bestseller Tomlinson Hill, and he produced the award-winning documentary film by the same name. Both examine the history and consequences of race, politics and economics in Texas.